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Kris

Available in weeks, not months
Joined
Jun 30, 2004
Messages
3,981
Location
Stratford
I can’t believe it’s been over a month already! I apologise for not writing sooner but I’ve been incredibly busy signing autographs, responding to fan mail and walking on water. Only joking, no-one sends fan mail these days do they?
In all seriousness, it’s been a good start and some of you have been asking why it took so long for me to sign the contract. Well, I was actually prepared to sign it straight away – I had the pen and everything. But Mr Martin said he had to nip back to his office as his secretary had told him the hard copy was ready to print.

He said he’d be five minutes but half-an-hour later he was still in the office. No idea what he was up to. Trouble was, I was dying for a number two. I couldn’t find a loo anywhere so I resorted to racing outside. I wanted to get as far away as I could for dignity and all that and found myself in the South Upper. I settled for the south-west gents, the one where the door handle is almost begging to be snapped.

I thought I’d got away with it but during mid-poo I heard the door slam shut. Er, hello? I tapped softly on the door but there was no-one around. I thought I heard some happy whistling and someone mumbling in a northern accent but I must have imagined it.

Anyway, 24 hours later and still no-one around. I stretched and suddenly felt a bulge. It was my bloody phone! Trapped in the bog and I didn’t even think of calling anyone. I glanced – 98 missed calls! All from Mr Martin apart from one, which I assume was from the missus; I can never remember her number.

Anyway, priorities. I called Mr Martin. Chris, he shouted, where are you? I thought you’d done a runner! Well, my stomach did feel a bit dodgy yesterday. You’re a lucky man, Mr Martin said. I just heard Phil Brown on Radio Whatever say our deal had fallen through and that we were pursuing Steve Evans. Really?, I responded. Well, no, it’s rubbish, Mr Martin said, but Phil, who I have to say has been very helpful since I sacked him, told me that Evans would be a very popular choice as the fans would love him. So I was five minutes away from contacting him. Now please sign the contract. I obliged. And that was that. Phew.

I bumped into a fan outside. C-c-c-chris? Please tell me you signed, he said. Yeah, mate, I replied. There was a cheer and about 100 people mobbed me. Actually it was just him and his son but I like to fantasise. Thank god, the dad said. I heard Browny on the radio. Steve Evans? Steve Evans? He’s a total ******* ****!

So here’s a lesson, people. If we have a bad spell with me as manager, just be careful what you wish for. Two words: Steve ******* Evans. Now let’s catch up…
 
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27 January 2018

Southend 3 Scunny 2

Well, what an emotional day. Rollercoasters, dreams coming true and the guy with the mic getting my name right. Shame about Jason Demechoochoo. Still, at least he only has to say it once because it’s not like Demi is a prolific goalscorer is he?

Talking of Demi, he didn’t have a great start. Got himself into a right pickle and we were a goal down. His head slumped and his eyes became droopy. Demi, I whispered several times. He came over and shrugged his shoulders. Don’t panic, learn from it and everything will be fine. He gave me a strange look. In fairness whispering everything to him was probably a bit creepy. New manager, same old ****, said one supporter behind me. How rude!

But what a response. Waves of attacks and eventually THAT equaliser by Kightly. How good was that? A beautiful curler with pace, swerve and dip. “****ing fluke,” I overheard Mr Alexander say. Mr Alexander, how rude! It was a brilliant goal, I shouted. Only in my head, though. I don’t like confrontation.

At half-time poor Kites was being ribbed by his team-mates. Apparently it was a ****ing fluke. Nevertheless, I urged them to stop as it constituted bullying. It’s just a bit of banter, gaffer, said Ferdy with a grin. Gaffer? How sweet! I forgave him and just said to the lads more of the same, please. I then put on my headphones and listened to a bit of Lionel Richie. Meanwhile, the lads were watching Soccer Saturday. Surprisingly Phil Thompson was covering our game. Kites was fuming. The others were laughing. I wonder why.

Anyway, the lads were brilliant and quickly took the lead with a scuffed free-kick from Macca. Don’t worry mate, just banter. Unfortunately we threw away our lead just minutes later. It was disappointing but then I remembered I had predicted 2-2 in one of those fantasy football league sites. Anyway, a point wouldn’t be the end of the world. But bloody hell, we only went and won the game in added time! Mr Alexander wasn’t happy. I sniggered. Only in my head, though. I don’t like confrontation.

So euphoria all round at the final whistle and the fans were chanting that Wiggle It song. God, I’d forgotten about that! Sadly I couldn’t oblige. Partly due to the fact that I was now in my 50s so by default my body was no longer co-operating. Also my missus had bought me my suit so I had to be on my best behaviour. It didn’t stop me belting out the song in the car on the way home. Now who did that song?
 
3 February 2018

Peterborrow 0 Southend 1

2 in a Room, that was it! Ah, the early 1990s. Snap, Technotronic, Adamski, Bombalurina. Er, anyway. During the week I signed three players, Freddie Ladapo, Sharyon Harrison and Sam Manton. I brought in Freddie because of his surname. You know, opposition players at set-pieces shouting ‘Oi, mark Ladappio, or mark Ladarpoo!’. That lack of focus could get us a few goals. Harrison? I have a confession to make. He’s not from Spurs, he’s my 12-year-old nephew. He won some kind of competition to play professional football. He’s actually quite good in that he can crawl through a player’s legs when they attempt to tackle. As for Mantom, that was just a laugh really, a tribute to my predecessor. Injured, past his best and dumped by his parent club. Then someone pointed out he was only 25, was only a couple of weeks away from fitness and was actually quite good.

Now, I’m afraid I have another confession. During the week I went out with a few mates in London and had a few too many beers. No problem usually but I have a tendency to make a few gaffes when I reach a certain level. One of the guys was a certain Mr Fry, who as you can imagine knows Peterborrow quite well. I told him I thought Peterborrow was a dull, stagnant town with no personality. Oh, you should have seen the local press over there the next day. Mr Fry seemed to find it quite amusing at the time but he’s not one for keeping things shtum is he? And the worst thing? I’d got the wrong town. I meant Norfampton.

The game? Oh yeah. As you can imagine I wasn’t given a great reception by the Borrow supporters and it got even worse. “Number 24, Jason Dedemetroy”. I laughed out loud. Poor Demi wasn’t too happy. It’s just banter, mate, I said. I was getting quite good at this. But anyway, we were superb in the opening minutes and we got our reward, a penalty. Oh no, I didn’t realise Demi was our penalty taker. There was a part of me that hoped he would miss. But in it went. “Southend goalscorer, number 24, Jason Dedemitrou.” He was getting closer.

I wasn’t too happy at half-time, though. We had completely dominated but were only 1-0 up. Guys, I said, please score at least another as Borrow will get chances. I felt I was gaining their respect so I enjoyed a bit of Lionel.

The second half was downbeat. Poor Whitey got a horrific injury and the game was halted for many minutes. He was crying in pain and I couldn’t hold back the tears. As I suspected, Borrow upped their game but we stood firm. I gave a Freddie a chance but he didn’t really do much. Annoyingly the plan from set pieces didn’t work.

Then the board went up. 10 minutes of added time. I actually applauded as Borrow deserved it. During their pressure they had two goals disallowed for offside and judging by their crowd’s furious reaction I imagined that at least one of them must have been legit so it was only fair they had extra time to get an equaliser. My reaction didn’t go down well with the fourth official, though, who thought I was just taking the ****. I explained and he looked daggers at me for the remaining minutes. Borrow didn’t take advantage so it was another three points. Yay! Just need to get out alive now…
 
15 March 2018

Well, so far, so goodish, eh? Four wins in five and then, er, no win in four. Still, only one defeat, though, and let me start by apologising for that game. You fans were so wonderful taking all that time to remove the beautiful snow from the Roots Hall surface, and what happened? Yep, the pitch was still god-awful.

Anyway, the lads let you down with a lethargic display and they clearly weren’t up for it. But I can’t blame them as I wasn’t up for it either, so much so that I went for lunch with the missus instead and looked forward to an afternoon in front of the fire watching Soccer Saturday with Jeff and the old boys club. Then I remembered that my Sky subscription had ended and would have to put up with Garth Crooks on the Beeb so I decided on Roots Hall in the end.

It was a wonderful performance from that Otzi guy. He was naughty – after his third goal he blew me a raspberry – but I love Turkish kebabs so I let him off. Whatever, I wasn’t happy after the game, so much so that I told the local rag I’d refund our fans or at least offer them all a pint.

In other news, well done to Mr Brown. Now boss of Swinton Insurance! Sounds like a pretty lucrative deal to me. Only bantz obviously. He’s been unbelievably helpful since leaving the Hall. I discovered a note suggesting that Bury played with a front six so would need to shoehorn at least eight defenders into the team, and another that said whenever you face a team that plays with a back three you have to panic and make up your own formation to confuse them. I went 4-3-3 against Rochdale and it sort of worked. A point is better than nothing and as you can see I’m starting to rotate a bit. That’s what happens when you try to rediscover your youth and attempt to do the wiggle it thing. Only kidding.

Anyway, looking forward to Blackpool this weekend. That beach and all those rollercoaster rides – bit like our season, eh? Oh, and the ghost train – that should please Sam Phantom. Snigger. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually play him some day…
 
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